stunning blue and green, the ceiling designed like waves with white crests. They were seated in comfortable armchairs at a table by a window which gave a fantastic view of the city of Dubai and the man-made island of Palm Jumeirah where the very wealthy owned mansions with sand and sea frontage.
A whole world away from her life in every sense, Tina thought, but she was having a little taste of it today, smiling at the waiter who handed them a menu listing dozens of varieties of tea from which they could choose, as many different ones as they liked to try throughout the afternoon. He poured them glasses of champagne to go with their first course which was a mix of fresh berries with cream. Tina didn’t know how she was going to get through all the marvellous food listed—probably not—but she was determined on enjoying all she could.
Her mother was smiling.
Theo was wide-eyed at the view.
This was a good day.
Ari Zavros was bored. It had been a mistake to invite Felicity Fullbright on this trip to Dubai with him, though it had certainly proved he couldn’t bear to have her as a full-time partner. She had a habit of notching up experiences as though she had a bucket list that had to be filled. Like having to do afternoon tea at the Burj Al Arab hotel.
‘I’ve done afternoon tea at The Ritz and The Dorchester in London, at the Waldorf Astoria in New York, and at The Empress on Vancouver Island. I can’t miss out on this one, Ari,’ she had insisted. ‘The sheikhs are mostly educated in England, aren’t they? They probably do it better than the English.’
No relaxing in between his business talks on the Palm Jumeirah development. They had to visit the indoor ski slope, Atlantis underwater, and of course the gold souks where she had clearly expected him to buy her whatever she fancied. She was not content with just his company and he was sick to death of hers.
The only bright side of Felicity Fullbright was she did shut up in bed where she used her mouth in many pleasurable ways. Which had swayed him into asking her to accompany him on this trip. However, the hope that she might be compatible with him on other grounds was now comprehensively smashed. The good did not balance out the bad and he’d be glad to be rid of her tomorrow.
Once they flew into Athens he would pack her off back to London. No way was he going to invite her to his cousin’s wedding on Santorini. His father could rant and rave as much as he liked about its being time for Ari to shed his bachelor life. Marriage to the Fullbright heiress was not going to happen.
There had to be someone somewhere he could tolerate as his wife. He just had to keep looking and assessing whether a marriage would work well enough. His father was right. It was time to start his own family. He did want children, always enjoying the time he spent with his nephews. However, finding the right woman to partner him in parenthood was not proving easy.
Being head over heels in love like his cousin, George, was not a requirement. In fact, having been scorched by totally mindless passion in his youth, Ari had never wanted to feel so possessed by a woman again. He had a cast-iron shield up against being sucked into any blindly driven emotional involvement. A relationship either satisfied him on enough levels to be happily viable or it didn’t—a matter of completely rational judgement.
His dissatisfaction with Felicity was growing by the minute. Right now she was testing his patience, taking millions of photographs of the inside of the hotel. It wasn’t enough to simply look and enjoy, share the visual pleasure of it with him. Using the camera to the nth degree was more important, taking pictures that she would sift through endlessly and discard most of them. Another habit he hated. He liked to live in the moment.
Finally, finally, they got in the elevator and within minutes were being led to their window table in the SkyView Bar. But did Felicity sit down and enjoy the view? No, the situation wasn’t perfect for her.
‘Ari, I don’t like this table,’ she whispered, grasping his arm to stop him from sitting down.
‘What’s wrong with it?’ he asked tersely, barely containing his exasperation with her constant self-centred demands.
She nodded and rolled her eyes, indicating the next table along. ‘I don’t want to be next to a child. He’ll probably play up and spoil our time here.’
Ari looked at the small family group that Felicity didn’t like. A young boy—five or six years old—stood at the window, staring down at the wave-shaped Jumeirah Beach Hotel. Seated beside the child on one side was a very handsome woman—marvellous facial bones like Sophia Loren’s—dark wavy hair unashamedly going grey, probably the boy’s grandmother. On the other side with her back turned to him was another woman, black hair cropped short in a modern style, undoubtedly younger, a slimmer figure, and almost certainly the boy’s mother.
‘He won’t spoil the food or the tea, Felicity, and if you haven’t noticed, all the other tables are taken.’
They’d been late arriving, even later because of feeding her camera in the lobby. Having to wait for Felicity to be satisfied with whatever she wanted was testing his temper to an almost intolerable level.
She placed a pleading hand on his arm, her big blue eyes promising a reward if he indulged her. ‘But I’m sure if you ask, something better could be arranged.’
‘I won’t put other people out,’ he said, giving her a hard, quelling look. ‘Just sit down, Felicity. Enjoy being here.’
She pouted, sighed, flicked her long blonde hair over her shoulder in annoyance, and finally sat.
The waiter poured them champagne, handed them menus, chatted briefly about what was on offer, then quickly left them before Felicity could kick up another fuss which would put him in a difficult position.
‘Why do they have all those chairs on the beach set out in rows, Yiayia?’
The boy’s voice was high and clear and carried, bringing an instant grimace to Felicity’s pouty mouth. Ari recognised the accent as Australian, yet the boy had used the Greek word for grandmother, arousing his curiosity.
‘The beach belongs to the hotel, Theo, and the chairs are set out for the guests so they will be comfortable,’ the older woman answered, her English thick with a Greek accent.
‘They don’t do that at Bondi,’ the boy remarked.
‘No. That’s because Bondi is a public beach for anyone to use and set up however they like on the sand.’
The boy turned to her, frowning at the explanation. ‘Do you mean I couldn’t go to that beach down there, Yiayia?’
He was a fine-looking boy, very pleasing features and fairish hair. Oddly enough he reminded Ari of himself as a child.
‘Not unless you were staying in the hotel, Theo,’ his grandmother replied.
‘Then I think Bondi is better,’ the boy said conclusively, turning back to the view.
An egalitarian Australian even at this tender age, Ari thought, remembering his own experiences of the people’s attitudes in that country.
Felicity huffed and whined, ‘We’re going to have to listen to his prattle all afternoon. I don’t know why people bring children to places like this. They should be left with nannies.’
‘Don’t you like children, Felicity?’ Ari enquired,
